Unfulfilled
by Annie2
Summary: Buffy is back from the dead; Spike is back in Sunnydale.
1. Default Chapter

Unfullfilled  
  
By Annie  
  
Rated: R; language and situations.  
  
Summary: Spike has gone home.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, not ever, alas and alack.  
  
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net  
  
  
  
  
  
Unfulfilled  
  
  
  
I bit down on her neck hard, reflexively, as I started to come, and the resultant screaming pain in my head effectively ended the first halfway decent shag I had enjoyed in, well, a long time. I certainly had no intention of hurting her, but maybe deep down I was angry that she wasn't Her.  
  
Of course, she jumped from the tangle of covers on the bed and ran screeching from the hotel room, holding onto her neck, heading, no doubt, for the nearest bobby.  
  
Ah, well. I grabbed my pants and hurried into them, no mean feat, considering I still had a hard-on, and got out of there as fast as I could, heading in exactly the opposite direction of the busy intersection.  
  
I missed old London Town. This modern version was too bright and crowded. I had especially liked this Whitechapel area, back when it was darker, danker and much less populated. What fun we'd had back then; skulking and stalking, drinking our fill and getting away with it. Until that knife-happy poofter came along around 1888, and then Scotland Yard was all over the place all the time. We caught up with him, the original Ripper, and no one ever heard from him again all right.  
  
The taste of the harlot's blood in my mouth taunted me as I walked unerringly through the dark back alleys, back to my own section of town. Pretty much way over to the other side of the city, to a residential area.  
  
I was about to light up a smoke and then changed my mind. I liked the taste of the blood, it had been so long, and it would fade all too soon as it was.  
  
I had lucked out; found a nice house for sale, looked like it was on the market quite a while, so I took up residence in the basement. Reminded me of my old crypt in SunnyD, as a matter of fact. No one ever came around at night and, as far as I could tell, no one ever came around in the daytime either.  
  
I had been here for six months now, living off nicked cash and con jobs, nary a thought of the Slayer imposing on my easy existence. (Liar - my still-aching brain accused.)  
  
Well, alley whores were cheap, and the bitch hadn't been pre-paid or anything, so I got an almost-real almost-fuck, with a part of the anatomy involved that was not my own hand. Not a total loss for the night, after all. But I always had trouble convincing myself I was happy here.  
  
Being here, in this place where we met, I thought I would miss Dru. I even briefly considered going after her again, but if I had to be pining away after someone, I didn't want it to be Druscilla. Not anymore. I didn't miss her at all actually, or Angel and Darla either. I had heard Darla had finally disposed of herself, and the pseudo-vampire-detective was involved in some kind of mystical something I wanted no part of.  
  
No, I didn't miss any of that at all. What I did miss surprised me.  
  
I missed Sunnydale. Missed my crypt. I had hightailed it out of there about two months after the Slayer jumped from that cursed tower and ended it all. For her and for me. I left everything, car, TV, furniture, just packed some clothes in a bag one night and left. Kept going till I got back home.  
  
Except home appeared to be what I had left behind.  
  
I missed the friends, too, although I wouldn't quite admit things that far to myself. Missed demon-girl and the wannabe-Watcher. I wondered if they were still an item, or if Anya had smartened up. I missed Tara, the quiet, decent-hearted half of the Wiccan duo, but I was kind of glad to be away from Willow. She had been making me uneasy, and I wasn't sure why, but I always trust my vamp senses. I even missed ol' Rupert. Missed the Niblet, but she was the one who had bothered me the most - After. Being blood kin to the Slayer - so to speak - didn't leave me anything but painful memories every time I saw her.  
  
So, I left. I just wanted to be away for a little while. Wanted to get away from the 'Bot, too, who brought back other, bittersweet, remorseful memories. As far as I knew from the demon underworld, the Hellmouth still had its' Slayer, so the robot was hanging in there after all.  
  
Got back to my basement finally, and I settled onto my sleeping bag on the floor with my newest adult novel. I didn't particularly like to read, but I'd been having a devil of a time scouting around at night trying to find a place to hide an extension cord and drain off a bit of electricity for a telly. Candlelight was enough for me, really, but I had found out that a sleeping bag on the floor was a lot like a blanket on a stone slab. It was only midnight now, and I should still have been out there, but I figured discretion was the better part of valor and I would stay out of sight of the authorities for the rest of the night.  
  
But I couldn't read. My mind wandered and pulled out the guilt on me, again.  
  
Okay, so I had promised I would protect Dawn till the end of the world. Well, Glory was gone, and as far as I was concerned, that night was the end of the world.  
  
"Bloody hell," I muttered, throwing the lewd paperback into the dark reaches of the basement and getting up to pace, lighting a cigarette with unaccountably shaky hands. This guilt stuff was something I was unprepared for, and had really never experienced. I always tried to rationalize it to myself - my broken promise. Glory was gone. BuffyBot was doing a bang-up job if you ignored the nonsense that came out of its' mouth, and Giles and the Scoobies had been taking good care of Dawn by the time I left.  
  
Still, if she knew I hadn't kept my promise, the Slayer would be turning over in her grave.  
  
'Turning over in her grave' - the words slammed me back to reality so hard I actually tried to gasp without breath and doubled over, the pain sending me reeling out into the damp, cold night in an effort to flee my thoughts.  
  
That never works; I have tried it before, numerous times.  
  
It was really cold now, the middle of winter in London being just as damp as the rainy Spring and Summer days, but a lot colder. I just walked, fast, going along blindly, trying to outrun the wash of pain and emptiness that had overtaken me back in the basement. At full speed, I knew I couldn't go fast enough.  
  
I found myself in still more dark alleys, and then I was in another 'business section.' Lots to do in London Town if you know where to look. I had in mind to visit a bar instead, though, and eased into one as unnoticed as possible. I didn't know if anyone was still looking for a handsome, blond man with long teeth.  
  
I ordered bourbon, and sat at the end of the bar, away from the people and the mirrors. Even so, I felt the heat of the woman as she slid onto the stool next to me. I was trying to drown my sorrows, not complicate them, so I ignored her.  
  
She must have had a quota for the night.  
  
"Hey, Ducks," she tried happily, sliding a hand across the black denim covering my thigh. "Alone tonight?"  
  
I drained the glass and motioned for another before I turned to look at her.  
  
A fucking blonde. I hate blondes. All except one.  
  
"Sod off," I told her, none too gently, either.  
  
"Hey," she objected. "I'm just trying to be nice,"  
  
"Be nice elsewhere," I warned her, reaching for my second drink and tossing it down. A quick barkeep, just what I liked. I noticed her hand was still on my thigh, and the heat coming through reminded me of my aborted fuck earlier.  
  
So I was guilty, in pain and unsatisfied, too.  
  
"And remove the hand, Ducks, before I do. I'm not into blondes, and if I were, it would never be you."  
  
More bloody pain now, that phrase was going to be the undoing of me yet. At least I had used it on someone, instead of vice versa. I reached down and flung her rough hand away from my leg, throwing some cash on the bar and heading out without another word.  
  
I wasn't too far from the river; maybe I could impale myself on something and fall in.  
  
It was colder still by the Thames, and all the lights on the bridge and on the various buildings on the banks did nothing to dispel the bone- deep chill. Not that something like that really bothered me.  
  
Nothing like London in the dead of winter, though, I mused.  
  
It would be warmer in Sunnydale. I cursed myself inwardly. I wasn't strong enough to go back. And I wasn't strong enough to stay away, either.  
  
I stood on the walkway, traffic rushing past behind me, and watched the old river drift beneath on its' way to whatever ultimate place it ended up. I was in no mood to search my brain for a geography lesson. I could jump in, but then I would be wet as well as cold-blooded, and wet didn't appeal to me just then. Also, as I glanced around, I didn't see anything even remotely resembling a wooden stake, so my self-destructive thoughts of a few minutes ago would go unfulfilled.  
  
Like me. Like my promise.  
  
And why in bleeding Hell did Fate, or whoever, pick just that particular time for the Slayer to die anyway? Having outlived all the others, why did they take her away from me just when she was starting to see me as something a bit more than a monster?  
  
Why can't I just find a decent, sane vampiress to spend my nights and days with?  
  
"Because that's not what I want," I told myself out loud.  
  
There might have been a ghost of a chance, just the crumb I had practically begged her for - but no more.  
  
Well, that wasn't doing me any good, just standing there being maudlin, so I headed off the bridge in search of another tavern. Which probably wouldn't do me any good either.  
  
Someone else was on the walkway, heading toward me. Some other lost soul, probably trying to escape something. I hoped he wasn't succeeding either.  
  
As we came nearer, my vampire senses perked up unaccountably. Back in the old days, BC (Before Chip), I would have kept my eye on him, nodded good evening as we passed each other, and then turned around and sated myself without remorse. The chip, of course, would not allow me to do that, and even now, thinking about it, I could feel the tiniest discomfort in my head. But my other senses, the natural ones, which are supernaturally heightened by being what I was, they were kicking in and going on high alert.  
  
It was the build, and the faint scent approaching, the simple feel of the human before me. I knew that person.  
  
Three more steps toward him and I knew who it was.  
  
Rupert Giles.  
  
He had, by this time, caught sight of me as well, and I am sure he was as surprised as I was, seeing the bridge lights glinting on platinum hair, the silhouette of the long black coat I still wore.  
  
I figured I should plunge right in.  
  
"Ripper! Fancy meeting you here! Kicked you out of the Hellmouth, have they? When did you come back to the old stomping grounds?"  
  
Rupert Giles slowed to a halt as he got closer to me. He was blinking in surprise behind his glasses.  
  
"Spike!" he exclaimed. "It is you! What an unpleasant surprise! Still not the most pleasant chap on the face of the earth, are you, William? How have you been? Still all defanged and impotent, are you?"  
  
"Chipped, not defanged, and sodding well not impotent," I insisted. "Now, tell me, Rupert, what brings you.."  
  
I never even saw it coming when he punched me in the face.  
  
I reeled back against the walkway railing, vamping out before I could stop myself, and so of course I got the usual headache. But the fact that the Ripper had apparently thought nothing of simply attacking me definitely let me know he wasn't glad to see me.  
  
I held up my hands to keep him away, getting my face under control. "Did you come here looking for me, just to do that? Hardly fair, since you know I can't fight back properly. If I could, you wouldn't stand a chance in Hell of getting off this bridge in one piece, and you fucking well know it!"  
  
"You left town, Spike. You left and you didn't even tell anyone. We went looking for your help so many times before we realized you weren't off behind some bar cheating at poker or conning someone out of something. You promised Buffy, I know this. And you left. Not that it wasn't good riddance and all that anyway, mind you."  
  
Well, he had called me on it. Someone besides myself had finally said out loud that I was a deserter.  
  
"I couldn't stay anymore. I couldn't fucking stand to be around anymore. Not around the Hellmouth, not around you and the Scoobies and especially not around Dawn! I didn't know how hard it would be! I never thought she would be the one who didn't make it! I wanted it to be me. I still want it to be me."  
  
Giles was having none of the excuses. Like the authoritative Watcher I always knew he could be, he was still protecting his Slayer.  
  
"Well, we needed you back then. We all needed you. And don't think for one minute we relished that fact. There were so many demons."  
  
I interrupted him. I had laid enough guilt on myself, I didn't need another layer from old English.  
  
"You were doing all right, and I knew you would be fine and dandy without old Spike trailing along. Half of you were probably glad I was gone and I'm bloody sure the other half didn't care either way. The 'Bot was doing a first rate job. And the witches were already taking over caring for the Lil' Bit. My work was done. And while we're on the subject, I see you left town, too. Aren't you needed anymore either? Did Witch Willow manage to get herself in total control of everything?"  
  
This seemed to hit home, as a strange expression came over his face. I had touched a nerve with the mention of Willow, and I suspected my inner fears of her burgeoning involvement in the Craft turning into trouble might have come to pass.  
  
"Well, you have a point there, Spike, but that's hardly what we are discussing."  
  
"What discussing? You slammed me in the bloody nose!"  
  
He took a deep breath. "Things are going perfectly well in Sunnydale, Spike. If you had stuck around you might have just been mucking up the works. As it is."  
  
"Well, from what I hear, and I do keep up, the so-called Slayer is still kicking demon ass in the Hellmouth. Good thing Willow knows so much about computers, I guess."  
  
"You don't know," Giles breathed in disbelief.  
  
"Don't know what?" I asked him, getting aggravated, needing another bourbon or five.  
  
Giles smiled sadly. "You don't know why I left Sunnydale. I really had to, you see. Didn't want to, of course. She's like a daughter to me. I love her desperately, but she depends on me too much. Leaving there was the only way I could make her face up to her duties. After she came back..."  
  
I couldn't hear anymore. My brain froze and the bridge walkway was suddenly gone from beneath my feet. Blackness fell across my eyes and my mind reeled. I grabbed his shoulders, ignoring the niggling pain in my head.  
  
"What are you saying? What the bloody fuck are you talking about?"  
  
He shrugged me off distastefully. "I am talking about Buffy. The woman you had professed long and loudly to love. The woman you deserted. I should stake you where you stand just on general principle!"  
  
"The woman is dead!" I railed at him, all-consuming torment rearing its' ugly head in my insides. "She doesn't need me anymore for fuck all! And as for stakes, I'm already pulverized. Staking would just make it official."  
  
Giles got dangerously calm then, and I unconsciously backed up a step, hating the action the moment I did it.  
  
"The woman is alive, Spike. And guess what, she still doesn't need you for fuck all, as you so basely put it. I said we needed you. Past tense, Spike. But she's back and in the best shape ever. Taking life and all demons by the horns, so to speak."  
  
I was angry then, at the audaciousness of the witch, and still trying to absorb this incredible information. "Willow, right? How dare she? Is Buffy..is she..?  
  
"Normal?" he finished the question I was afraid to ask, then nodded. "As far as we can tell. She was quite a bit disoriented when she got back, and there was a slight problem with the spell, so she ended up having to dig herself out of the grave."  
  
I winced at that, anger growing inside, overpowering guilt and pain. Willow. She left her.  
  
But then, so did I.  
  
"And she's all right now? And everyone else?" I asked.  
  
"Yes, yes, they all appear to be fine. Buffy has had a rough time of it, adjusting and all. She was, after all, dead for three months, and there are a lot of things that need attending to, but she's managing beautifully. So she never needed you after all."  
  
I was grinding my molars in anger and frustration, trying to keep it under control. "And why," I bit off shortly, "are you here tormenting me anyway?"  
  
He laughed darkly. "It was just sheer bad luck, Spike. I couldn't sleep and thought a walk would tire me out. I never thought I would run into you here, or I would have gone in another direction, believe me."  
  
"I need a drink," I decided abruptly, brushing past him and heading off the bridge walkway again. Got to find a tavern, no doubt about it. Maybe a demon or two to massacre on the way. "Nice talking to you, Rip."  
  
"Nice seeing you again, Spike," he shouted after me sarcastically.  
  
It took me ten bourbons to gather up the courage to make the decision. I never bloody cared what her Watcher said before, so why should I start now? Off I went, back to the Hellmouth yet again.  
  
  
  
To be continued 


	2. Chapter 2

PACKING  
  
Unfulfilled 2  
  
By Annie  
  
Rated: PG; language  
  
Spoilers: The Gift  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine.  
  
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net  
  
  
  
  
  
PACKING  
  
  
  
First thing I did when I got back to town was throw the Squank Demon living in my crypt out on its' trespassing ass. He had a bit of trash scattered around, but otherwise nothing much seemed to be disturbed. Except the sodding telly was smashed in. Probably didn't know what it was.  
  
Telly was low on my list of priorities, though. I wouldn't admit that I was half afraid to face the Slayer or any of her gang, so I just told myself I had to get my place in order, in case Buffy heard I was back in town and dropped by. Yea, that was it.  
  
So, finally, the second night in, when the only possible thing I had left to do was replace the TV, I decided to venture out - to Revello Drive.  
  
I almost didn't go, almost couldn't make my feet take me, but hey, I was the Big Bad. What's a little skip-town and break-a-promise among friends? Or enemies. They all probably told each other it was just what they would have expected out of that prick Spike.  
  
It was very late when I got there, standing outside in my old place by the tree. I refrained from lighting a cig, just in case anyone might see the lighter flaring in the dark. Most of the lights were off, except for a dim nightlight in the kitchen, and one more in Buffy's bedroom. I couldn't see into the room, and briefly considered climbing the tree, then brushed the thought away as juvenile.  
  
She came to the window and looked out, and I melted back behind the trunk of the tree, not wanting to be caught snooping. I didn't want her to know I was in town, not this way.  
  
I could almost smell her, that was how hard she crashed into my senses just then. I don't think I have ever been so deeply happy as I was at exactly that moment. Buffy alive, even in silhouette, was an exhilarating sight, and I blinked rapidly, unaccustomed to the swell of feelings I was experiencing.  
  
Well, I really needed a smoke now.  
  
But she moved even closer to the window, and I could sense her sensing me; the Slayer can feel the presence of a vampire; and this vampire was certainly attuned to this particular Slayer's vibes. Time to get back to the crypt.  
  
I hadn't gotten halfway down the block when I heard the sound of the front door opening and the hurried footsteps on the porch steps. Damn. No sense trying to run now. The jig was up. So I bluffed.  
  
I turned around in feigned surprise. And she was right there, alive, standing on the sidewalk ten feet in front of me and I don't think I ever had a happier second in either one of my lives. She was scowling at me, and I tried to pretend I didn't notice. I don't even know how I got my dead throat to form words, but I managed to engage my reeling brain.  
  
I reached for a smoke nonchalantly, trying to hide the shake in my hands.  
  
"So, 'Bot, done patrolling for the night, are you? Kill all the little beasties or did you leave a few for me?"  
  
She didn't speak, emotions warring nakedly on her face; she was surprised, shocked, angry, and, praise the god of all demons, underneath all that she was glad to see me. I smelled it.  
  
The anger won out, as I had known it would.  
  
"You left," she stated quietly, as if I didn't already know that.  
  
I took a short drag and blew it insolently in her direction. "You didn't need me. You were doing the job well enough..."  
  
"Spike, I'm not the 'Bot. That thing is retired. You know it's me. I know you do."  
  
My cigarette hand was shaking so badly there was no point pretending to smoke.  
  
"Yea, so I left. I wasn't needed here anymore. You were gone. And now you're back, and what? Going to stake me now, because I left town, because I did the thing you were trying to get me to do for months?"  
  
"I don't want to talk to you Spike. I don't want to see you - ever. I expected more from you, and I shouldn't have. Feel free to move on anytime; and make it soon."  
  
She turned and walked back into the house without even a backward glance or one hesitant step. Didn't fight, didn't yell, didn't threaten to stake me or anything. Not a good sign.  
  
"I just did what you wanted me to do! I left town!" I shouted after her, trying not to let the desperation seep into my voice. "Dawn was safe and you were.gone! And now I'm going, too!"  
  
Well, I guess as far as I was concerned, she was still gone.  
  
I kicked a hole in every fence I passed on the way back to my crypt. And the first thing I did when I got there was find my bottle. I am such a weakling, such a sucker for a pretty face, nice hair and a body the gods would get hard for. there I went, off in fantasyland once again.  
  
Don't like blondes anyway, remember? I like 'em dark and dangerous. Of course, the Slayer was pretty dangerous. Kicked my English ass more than a few times in the past, hadn't she? But things were okay, we were almost getting along and then she had to go and jump off a fucking tower and kill herself.  
  
The bourbon just made me angry, except in retrospect I think it was really making me horny and frustrated. So I decided to leave, once and for all, and for the last time, so help me fires of hellgods.  
  
I was downstairs, still drinking and throwing some of my favorite weapons into a satchel when I heard her come in. I almost didn't hear her at all, which was unusual, because every other time she entered my humble home, she just slammed in noisily. Loud enough to wake the dead.  
  
I stood calmly, waiting for her to climb down the ladder. Be damned if I was going to scurry up there and greet Her Highness. She came down all right, fearlessly, as she usually did, and brandishing a lethal-looking wooden stake.  
  
"I said, I was leaving," I told her. "The twig is unnecessary."  
  
She flung it aside lightly and faced me, arms crossed in front of her like armor, determination in her face. Her beautiful, alive face.  
  
"It's not for you, Spike. It's 2 am. I don't go out unarmed - ever. What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
I turned back to my satchel, keeping one eye on her, in case she changed her mind and decided to jump me after all. "Not that it's any of your sodding business, I'm packing. For the last time, which should make you and all your little sidekicks very happy. I'm out of Sunnydale, for good."  
  
"You promised, Spike. You promised you would protect her for me. I counted on you." She was quietly accusing, which tore me up more than the angry ranting which I had been expecting would have.  
  
I closed the satchel firmly, not looking at her, not able to look at her, truth be told. I tried hard to gather my thoughts, but I was so distracted by the want, no the need, to crush her to me and welcome her back from the dead, I couldn't think straight.  
  
"You're right. I did promise. I went there, all ready to be turned to dust, just to prove myself to you, keep the Bit safe for you, and all I got was stabbed and thrown off the tower. And I got up from a pile of rubble to find a dead Slayer. No end of the world; Dawn and creation all safe and sound; myself, all safe and sound. And you gone."  
  
She sighed and looked down at her feet. "So you wimped out and ran with your tail between your legs."  
  
"Okay," I replied quietly. "I deserve that. But I deserve a mite of credit, too. I tried. I stayed for two months. I looked after her, after them, every day. I patrolled, slew demon after demon, baby-sat for all the little Slayerless Scooby meetings, and you know what? After a bit, I couldn't take it anymore. I spent all that time, trying to make you understand how I felt, and you brushed me off and then you left. I know you had to do it, but I couldn't stay here one more minute, looking at kid Sis and that fucking robot."  
  
She looked back up at me then, and amazingly, there were tears in her eyes. They stung me, because I knew I had put them there.  
  
"I didn't want to come back," she said. "I was safe and happy, and my work was over. And after I was back a day or two, when I was used to just being again, I looked for you. I wanted to thank you for helping us. I saw you falling from the tower that night, I hoped you were all right. I knew you tried to protect her and I thought if anything happened to me you would still protect her. I know she's fine, but you promised me. And you left. Just like everyone else does."  
  
I opened my mouth to try to say something, anything, I couldn't believe she was lumping me in with Angel and Riley, and the thought hit me that it was more than that. Ripper had left as well, and her father, that Parker asshole and some Scott I had heard about after the fact. Even Wolf Boy had taken off, after being an integral part of the group. Joyce was gone, as well.  
  
"But, I came back, Luv, as soon as I heard. I came back to tell you why.."  
  
"It doesn't matter," she whispered, looking around for her stake, preparing to walk back through the cemetery and probably out of my wretched life forever. Well, I wasn't going to stop her.  
  
Bloody hell I wasn't.  
  
I have damned the romantic leftovers in my soulless shell on occasion, and never more than at that moment, when I knew that no matter what, crawl on the floor, debase myself, throw my arms around her legs and try to keep her there, no matter what she said or did, even if she staked me, finally finishing me off, she wasn't going up that ladder until I had my say.  
  
"Buffy, stop. It does matter. It has always mattered and that's what I'm trying to get across here. We do speak the same language, the only problem is that you don't understand."  
  
She looked at me, incredulous. "Understand? I don't understand? I do understand, Spike. I get that you think you have this - connection with me. I get that you want to know me a lot better. I think you worked on it a long time, and you got pissed that you couldn't get to me, so you just left, seeing as I wasn't around to impress anymore."  
  
That made me really mad, and I moved at vamp speed to block her from setting a foot on the ladder.  
  
"Is that what you think? Is that really what you think? I've humiliated myself, I don't know how many times, because of you. Why can't you simply believe what I've been trying to tell you all along? I wanted to fall down and turn to dust every day and every night since I lost you. I want to be the one. Your one."  
  
She shook her head slowly, the tears still forming in her eyes. I reached out slowly and put my hand over her heart, carefully, tenderly, holding her eyes with my own as intensely as a vampire could. I didn't want her to look away.  
  
"Can't you feel me? Here in your heart. I can bloody well feel you in my dead heart. I told you I hate it, I never wanted you there, I wanted you dead, and then, when you were, I would have given the last and next hundred years of my life to get you back. If I had known what they, what Willow was planning.well, I would have dug you out of there myself with my bare hands."  
  
She put one of her hands over the cold one resting over her heart. "I should have dusted you when I had the chance," she told me quietly.  
  
"Already there, Pet, it's like I told somebody lately, staking would just make it official." I reluctantly took my hand from the warmth of her body, reaching to take the stake from her hand and pressing the point to my chest. "If this is really the way you want it, have a go. Or if you just want to have a knock-down, drag-out till one of us is dead again, we can have a go at that, too."  
  
"You'll lose," she assured me calmly, confident as always.  
  
I smiled a bit crookedly then, feeling some of my old bravado sneak in; I had never backed down from the Slayer when it counted. "Who knows? I might win by a headache."  
  
Some brief sadness flickered across her eyes then, but she quelled whatever it was and looked me squarely in the face. "Get out of my way, Spike. I'm going home. I'll expect to see this place empty the next time I come here."  
  
I stepped aside and bowed mockingly. "Absolutely, Your Slayerness," I said sarcastically, as she brushed by me and climbed up the ladder without even a backward glance.  
  
"You won't have Spike to kick around anymore!" I called up after her.  
  
She didn't say another word, just walked out of my life. After I threw a few things against the wall, cursing myself for what I was, I resumed packing. 


	3. Chapter 3

Stalemate  
  
Unfulfilled 3  
  
By Annie  
  
Rated:PG  
  
Spoilers: The Gift; a general Season 6 spoiler about Spike's hardware.  
  
Disclaimer: still not mine  
  
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net  
  
  
  
Part 3  
  
  
  
I am, by unholy nature, a predator, necessarily nocturnal, but a predator nonetheless. And like all other creatures of prey, I can sense distress in those weaker than myself. When I stepped out of the crypt, bags in hand, into the unexpected thunderstorm, sensed heightened by the electric climactic changes around me, I knew she was there. In distress. I had expected that she had gone back home without a backward glance, never thought she would have hung around the cemetery, and especially not in this weather. The rain was deluging down hurtfully, and every few seconds or so a blinding flash of lightening would tingle the skin on my body. The air fairly crackled with it.  
  
I was soaked to the skin as soon as I got out the door, but I loved it anyway. I needed something violent to assuage the grief in me, the rejection that crawled in my gut painfully. I probably would have gone back inside and waited out the storm before leaving California, but the distress signals my senses were picking up stopped me. I knew it was Buffy, but she was nowhere in sight, so I set the bags down and stood quietly, letting the cool rain inundate my cooler flesh while I closed my eyes and just sensed. I reached out, through the rain and the strobing of the storm, and I knew where she was. I should have guessed, known, right away.  
  
Her mother's grave, of course. I always liked Joyce. Except for the axe thing, she had always treated me civilly, even warmly after a fashion. Unlike the daughter, but then I had tried to kill her a few times. I went quietly, which was practically unnecessary, with the noise of the pounding rain and the loud claps of thunder reverberating from all the corners of Sunnydale. She was up by the headstone, sitting on the wet ground, pummeled by the storm and ignoring it. Her face was in her hands, and it didn't take a bloody genius to figure out that she was crying. Poor lost Slayer.  
  
She didn't hear me, didn't sense me either, in all her grief, but I could hear her sobbing through what had to be frozen fingers. I stood there a few seconds, torn. I should have turned around and left, gotten in the DeSoto and hightailed it right out of there.  
  
The heart is not always wise, and mine has been nothing less than a traitor to me the last year or so, making me feel things that are unwelcome to me. I moved over to stand behind her, reaching down carefully to rest a hand on her rain-slicked hair. She jerked her head away.  
  
"Go away, Spike," she demanded. "Far away."  
  
"Let's get you inside, where it's dry, Pet. You won't be of use to anyone if you catch pneumonia out here." I tried to grab an arm and pull her off the muddy ground but she was having none of it, so I relented, and crouched down beside her in the teeming rain. She jumped just the slightest bit as a particularly blinding flash streaked across the farthest reaches of the cemetery. I tried again, a bit more insistently.  
  
"Come on, Buffy. Your Mum wouldn't want you sitting here in all this muck. And my coat's getting all muddy."  
  
She looked at me murderously. "Then go back inside. I'm fine here. I just want to talk to my Mom for few minutes, if that's all right with you."  
  
I sighed. "I can see by the amount of liquid you've absorbed that you have been talking to her for quite a few minutes already. You're going inside - the easy way or the hard way. You pick."  
  
Another flash of brilliance and the resultant rumble washed over us, two soaked-to-the-skin adversaries there at the grave. I held my hand out to her and stood, waiting to see if she would take it and let me pull her up. She wasn't letting me touch her, though, and my palm filled with cold rain until I gave up on the easy way.  
  
"The hard way, then," I decided, leaning down to put my arms around her and pick her up from the wet ground. She punched me on the side of the head, but I didn't let go, and so now, of course, I had the problem of the knife in my brain. Except, I didn't. Nothing hurt, except for the minor discomfort of the punch itself, which faded instantaneously. This was something I hadn't counted on, and I was totally thrown for a loop. Was this the 'Bot? No, I knew better. Well, that was a different problem than the one I was having right now, and, somewhere in the back of my mind, I tabled it as probably meaning I hadn't meant to hurt her, so the chip never fired. I held on a long time, but she kept pummeling me until I literally dropped her.  
  
I backed away from her just a bit, watching her chest move under the wet shirt as she caught her breath. I had to tear my eyes away, or risk another beating. I wished the rain would let up just a little. I had to shout at her just to get her to listen.  
  
"I am not trying to hurt you, Buffy! I just want you to come inside where it's dry! You can beat me till my head explodes and I can't stop you. I know it! Just come in and talk to me. Five minutes and then I'm leaving. For good. I'm already packed, I'll show you."  
  
"Fine, I want to tell you a few things anyway," she declared angrily, heading off in the direction of my crypt, leaving me behind in the soaking rain.  
  
She was already inside when I got there, dragging my soaked satchels in with me, and I could see she was freezing from the soaking down she had gotten outside. I rooted in a far corner for a blanket and tossed it to her. She took it begrudgingly and sat in my favorite, and only, chair, wrapping herself securely. I wondered if it was supposed to represent protection from the cold or from me. She should have known by now that she didn't need any protection from me.  
  
"Why did you come back here?" she bit off shortly, watching as I grabbed a cup of blood from the fridge.  
  
"You won't mind if I have a nip, I'm sure, being we're on my turf at the moment." I remarked, sipping a bit and then putting it away. I knew it bothered her, and I wanted to keep her on edge, but I didn't want to overdo it. She still had the stake, after all.  
  
"Why, Spike?" she repeated insistently.  
  
"I came for my stuff, is all. I found new digs, way better than this hole.."  
  
She interrupted me. "No, you said you came to tell me why you left. Remember? At the house earlier?"  
  
"Touche," I said graciously. "The Slayer's memory is intact. I changed my mind about the reason, and as it stands now, I have come to get my stuff. As I said."  
  
I was suddenly aware that I was soaked myself, and I started peeling off my clothes, dropping them to the floor carelessly as I walked around looking for something dry to wear. I saw her face flame, but she averted her eyes and said nothing. At least I thought she averted her eyes, I was deliberately not looking at her as I leaned against a stone wall for leverage to shed my wet jeans. I took my time in the corner, too, looking for dry clothes. Let her see what she'll be missing, was my thought.  
  
She still wasn't overtly looking as I returned to stand in front of her. I softened then, she was still shivering, and it was getting increasingly hard for me to stay angry at someone I loved who was in as much torment as she seemed to be in at the moment.  
  
"I have nothing to offer you, like tea or anything. It's the other English chap had that, but I could give you a shot or two of bourbon. Warms the blood nicely."  
  
"I don't want anything from you," she said plainly. "If you came for your things, why were you at the house, watching us?"  
  
"Fine," I replied. "I just wanted to stop a minute and see if everyone was all right. Check on things. See how the Bit was doing."  
  
She shifted slightly on the chair, pulling the blanket tighter around her. I wanted to hold her in the worst way then, but knew it was out of the question.  
  
"I came to tell you, Spike, that I hated you for leaving. I hated Fate for making me have to jump to stop Glory, I hated my friends for ripping me out of Heaven to bring me back here. There's nothing here for me except you, and I hate you the most just because of that. You've trailed along after me for years, now, shamelessly, like a dog in heat, and the one thing I needed you to do - you blew it."  
  
Now I was getting angry. "Yea, so, I'm shameless. What of it? I never made any pretenses about anything. Not in my entire life. Or my unlife. I bared my soul, or whatever the bloody hell makes me feel like this, how many times now? And here we are, once again. Fighting for all the wrong reasons. If you want to take me outside and drive a stake through me, then let's have at it once and for all. Barring that, I am packed and leaving here forever, because this, this non-relationship we have, doesn't do anything for me except get me smacked around. I'm done, Pet. I've tried too many times and I don't want to try anymore."  
  
She stood then, coming dangerously close to me. I kept wondering in the back of my mind where she had the stake.  
  
"I don't want you to try anymore, Spike. It's not worth it. Not worth the time and aggravation for you. We're two of a kind Spike, because even though I jumped from the tower to save the world, I still ended up leaving everyone who depended on me - just like you. Now I'm back, and they depend on me to be exactly the same. I'm not the same. I've gone through so much the past few years, I don't even know anymore if I'll be up to the next Apocalypse or not. There's no one to help me now, no one except you, and you were gone. Everyone else is busy with their lives, and I'm the Chosen One, not any of them. I'm the one who has to get the job done. I don't want to have to do it myself. And I obviously can't depend on you."  
  
She headed toward the door, taking my blanket and my insides along with her. What the bloody hell, I'm shameless, right? One last-ditch effort for the road.  
  
"Buffy," I spoke quietly, but she heard me and stopped, not turning around. I took a proverbial, pretend, deep breath and dived in.  
  
"We get one chance for real love in our lifetimes, if we're very lucky. I thought I had my shot already, until I saw you. One chance at something exceptional. Funny how these things creep into your gut till you're ready to die from the feelings inside. I haven't exactly been enjoying the past months myself, after all, you were gone forever. I should have thought about turning you as soon as I knew I loved you, so I could keep you forever, but you see, there's the rub, Love. I could never do it to you. That's when I knew. I am truly, deeply, totally in love with you. And that's the last time I am ever going to say the words. So, you just go on home now, and tomorrow night you can go patrolling, safe and sound from the Big Bad."  
  
Damned if she didn't walk out the door. 


	4. Chapter 4

Fulfilled  
  
By Annie  
  
Rated: R Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em.  
  
Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net  
  
  
  
  
  
Fulfilled  
  
Damned if I didn't go right out the door after her. Love's bitch, that's me all over.  
  
Of course, I was soaked again in a few seconds, as the storm seemed not to have abated the least little bit. I could barely see her, what with all the water falling out of the sky. I knew the path she would take out of the cemetery to get back home, so I just went that way. I didn't even waste my time calling out for her, as she wouldn't have been able to hear me anyway. She was almost at the huge, decrepit gates when I finally caught sight of her.  
  
"So, what? That's it now?" I shouted after her, stopping her in her wet tracks. "I rip my guts out and play show and tell for you, but you give me nothing in return?"  
  
She turned around, the hair plastered to the sides of her face again. "I have nothing to give," she told me flatly, quietly, so that I had to strain and get closer to hear her. I have to admit, I was worried about that stake I knew she had, but she wasn't getting away from me just then without a fight. Headaches be damned. Like me.  
  
"You have everything," I assured her. "You bloody well have everything of mine," I told her, pounding my chest twice for emphasis, as if I could start the old unbeating heart inside, make new life. "You came back to life, Slayer, now it's time to grow up."  
  
I didn't say it nicely but I was about at the end of my fraying rope. And it was time; time to stop feeling sorry for herself; time to accept the destiny she always seemed just resigned to, time to be the woman I knew she was capable of being.  
  
She laughed at me then. Very few people have ever done something like that; the only one who ever did and lived was Angelus.  
  
"You're telling me to grow up?!" she repeated. "Nice, coming from a 120- something year old who has to lie about why he was hanging out by my house tonight. Obsess much, Spike?"  
  
"Yea, fine, but I do come clean eventually, don't I? You just keep on covering. Cover up the fact that you are feeling inadequate and alone. Cover up the fact that you feel something between us that isn't revulsion. Do you think I want to stay around here, be the whipping boy for the Slayer? Can't even fight back properly, but you sure as all bloody hell liked it when I fought demons with you!"  
  
I thought she might have been crying, but her face was really too wet to tell. She wasn't happy with my little character evaluation, it seemed.  
  
"I'm not covering anything, you English twit!" she shouted at me. "I'm tired of being the only one who can do anything about anything! Can't you see? I'm tired of having the one person I can count on being a vampire, which is what I'm supposed to kill! Can't you see that either? I'm especially tired of loving men who leave me, God dammit! I'm the Slayer but I am still a human being! Grow up? Grow up? How about someone else growing up for a change? How about a town full of purposely blinded people who know these demons are here and pretend they're not, how about if they come out and fucking help me once! How about if you stop strutting around pretending you're all bad when we all know you can't hurt a fly? I'm tired! I'm just.tired..!"  
  
I thought she was going to collapse on the ground then, and I leaned in toward her, reaching out to catch her, and she was suddenly in my arms, sobbing in frustration. I knew it was bound to happen, and I was more than willing to stand there until the sun came out and fried me if that was what she wanted. But it was a different sensation, feeling her in my arms, pliant and wanting comfort. We were still getting deluged upon, but my senses were suddenly drowning in another way entirely. She started to say something and I shushed her.  
  
"Don't make a sound," I whispered into her ear, pulling her in close. The rain poured down but I couldn't hear it anymore. My senses were filled with other things; the beat of her alive heart in her warm body, the rush of the hot blood in her veins, the sound of the sweet breath in her lungs. It had been forever since I had felt anything so hot and alive, so life- giving and exciting. All the outside sounds disappeared and I listened with all my senses to the life of her, to the living being I loved and wanted so much. All the world as I ever knew it was gone in a split second, in the beat of a heart, her heart, in the pulse of a stream of red blood, her blood rushing through the warm body I was holding against me. Please let me be the one, I thought to myself.  
  
We stood there a long time until I finally decided she probably would get seriously sick if she didn't get warm and dry soon. I was reluctant to move so much as a muscle, but I knew we had to get inside. As I thought about it, I realized the DeSoto was closer than the crypt, and the car at least had heat. The keys were always in it, no problem with that, so I took a step in that direction, urging my Slayer along with me. She wasn't crying nearly as hard as she had been, and she seemed willing to go along.  
  
The DeSoto was always parked behind a big crumbling crypt in one corner of the cemetery. No one ever seemed to bother with it, but then, this is Sunnydale, and the problem would be demons before it would be juvenile delinquents. Demons don't have much use for cars. Not as classy as the Big Bad, I guess. I helped her in on the driver's side and edged her over just enough so I could get in beside her. She wasn't crying anymore, my strong demon-slayer, but she did look about exhausted. I took the keys out of the ashtray, blew the cigarette remains off them and started the engine, blasting the heat. I put my arms around her and pulled her close, resting her head on my chest. She was shivering, and I regretted the only heat she would get would be from the car. The rain was starting to slack off a bit, too, and I wondered how long it was until sunrise.  
  
"Spike," she started to say, and I told her to be quiet once more. "Rest a bit, Pet, and we'll talk about it later. I know you're mad at me, I'm mad at me, too. We can beat me up later."  
  
I reached my hand up to stroke her wet hair soothingly. I could feel her start to cringe away from me, but then she seemed to relent, and rested on me heavily. We sat that way, the two of us, wet through. She was probably as cold as I usually was, but the heater in the car works well, and soon she was comfortable and getting warm. I could sense her drifting off to sleep, and I laid my head back, closing my eyes, listening to her precious breathing and just hearing the thump of her heart in her chest. I tried not to let my mind wander any further, but in the warm dark of the car, I didn't have much control. To have her in such close quarters with me was an excruciating test of my self-control, but if I was ever to have any of her trust, I would have to prove myself. I could feel the desire roiling in my insides and I forced myself to immobility, lest my hands should wander where they weren't supposed to go. In her sleep, one of her hands had fallen into my lap, and I almost couldn't stand it, and certainly couldn't stop the hardness that grew there, purely out of my control.  
  
Well, this wouldn't do. I had to get her hand out of there. It had been a while, and I thought she was deeply asleep by now, so I reached down, hoping to move her hand just a bit. But she's the Slayer, so of course as soon as I touched her she was awake.  
  
"What the hell are you doing, Spike?" she mumbled, jerking awake, the movement making her shiver again, so that she instinctively burrowed in closer to me, obviously forgetting for the moment who was sharing the car with her.  
  
"Nothing. Just getting comfortable, Luv. It sounded like you were going to sleep for a long time."  
  
"The rain stopped," she remarked. "I can go home."  
  
"No, you can't. Not until you hear me out." I replied.  
  
"I have heard you, Spike, I've heard you for years and everything you say comes from an empty heart."  
  
I tightened my arm around her, anticipating that she might try to sit up again. "Not true. I haven't always spoken the truth, but everything I told you tonight is exactly the way it is. You can trust me, Slayer. You can believe that, if you let me stay, I will never let you down again. I'll never let you die. I'll never leave you."  
  
"I did die. And you did leave." She pointed out softly.  
  
I turned in my seat then, grabbing her face in my two hands. "Right. Because you were dead. But you're alive now, and that's why I came back. I ran into Giles, and then I found out you were here. I knew you would be upset with me, after I broke my promise, but give me a bit of credit for coming back to face the bloody music. If you ever die again, I promise I'll die too. And I'll keep this promise. If you let me stay."  
  
I was willing her to see the earnestness in my eyes, to feel the love I knew was there even if she denied it.  
  
Her hands came up to hold my wrists then, and I thought she would wrench my hands away from her face, but she only held on. "I can't trust you, can I?"  
  
I leaned in then, slowly, and kissed her forehead softly. "You can," I whispered. "I'll prove it if you let me stay."  
  
"Maybe," she murmured quietly, shivering slightly, whether from the touch of my lips or the coolness of them I couldn't tell. I hoped it was the former.  
  
"Yes," I whispered again, moving my lips from her forehead to her eyelids, just brushing them lightly. She didn't move an inch, and if my heart could beat it would have leaped in my chest just then. Her eyes were closed, and I thought she was just trying to hold onto the sleep, that nice, downy safe feeling of being asleep and warm and with someone. I couldn't stop myself from grazing her lips with mine, ever so slightly, just to get a taste of her.  
  
Her heart skipped a beat; I heard it, what with the silence in the car and the stopping of time and all just then. Her hands tightened their grip on my wrists, but still she didn't pull away. I froze then, just the briefest second, waiting, for a slap or a push, but there was nothing. She was frozen in time as well, like she was waiting. Waiting for me. So I kissed her again, tentatively, softly, and her heart started to pound in her chest. She wanted this. She wanted me.  
  
I whispered her name against her lips softly and then lost a bit of control, as I started kissing her hungrily. She seemed to hesitate just a second, but then she responded, kissing me back needfully. I listened with all my senses to the body next to me, the rush of blood, the pounding of the heart and the resultant heat building in waves to engulf me. She wanted me. Or needed me, it didn't matter which at the moment, as any common sense I should have felt had flown right out the car window into the approaching dawn. She released her grip on one of my wrists as my hand slid down the side of her face to caress her throat, delving even further to run my fingers just inside the V of her almost-dry shirt. The swell of her breast there all but drove me crazy, and I pulled away from her mouth to brush my lips down her throat, tracing the path my fingers had taken. She moaned and gripped the back of my head, guiding it down to her breasts. I ripped the shirt open, bugger it, I'd buy her a new one, and licked all around a luscious nipple softly, teasingly. Her hands were traveling on their own I think, they made their way down across my chest, pausing to brush my own nipples roughly, making me take one of hers into my mouth. Her hands found my cock, which was as hard as I had ever felt it, and I heard the soft moan in her throat when she touched it, realized it was all for her. She fumbled hastily with my pants to set it free, and I thought I would disintegrate when her hot hands touched my cool, hard flesh. She had her hand around it firmly, moving up and down, making a perfect rhythm with my teasing and sucking of her nipples.  
  
She pulled my head up away from her breasts with her other hand, kissing me almost frantically now, still holding onto me punishingly, and I knew she would push me over the edge soon if I didn't slow her down. I could sense the urgency in her, but not pure sexual need like I would have thought at first. It came to me in a hot flash of insight; she just wanted to feel alive. She was so angry that I wasn't here when she came back, that there was nothing here to make her feel truly alive. Bloody ironic, to want to feel alive with a dead man.  
  
I pulled away from her mouth reluctantly, reaching down to stop her before I came all over her hand.  
  
"Do you know what you're doing, Slayer?" I asked her, the desire in me making it difficult to speak just then.  
  
"Don't Psych 101 me, Spike," she warned huskily. She caught me off guard, grabbing my shoulders then and throwing herself backwards and away, laying across the big front seat of the car and pulling me down with her. On top of her. Exactly where I had hoped to be for about forever.  
  
"Do you know what you're doing?" she challenged me.  
  
"Bloody right," I assured her, crushing my mouth onto hers, trying to suck the new life right out of her with my kiss. She gasped beneath me, trying to get her legs around me, trying at the same time to get her jeans and panties off. I relinquished her lips for just the amount of time it took to accomplish that, and then kissed her briefly once more, before turning back to the hard, aching nipples I had been pulled away from. She was reaching down again, grasping the cold steel of me that lay between us, arching her hips up to capture me in her hot, wet self. She pushed, and I pushed harder, and she inhaled sharply at my invasion of her body. I went back up then, abandoning the breasts for the face. I wanted to see her, wanted to see how she needed me and wanted me right at that moment. We were slammed against each other and I ground my hips into her, reveling in the intake of breath, the roll of her eyes in pleasure.  
  
"More?" I whispered to her mouth, licking her lips lightly.  
  
She closed her eyes and her hands dug painfully into the flesh at my hips.  
  
"More," she breathed. "More, hard."  
  
I didn't need any more urging than that. I pounded myself into her desperately and she met me, hard thrust for hard thrust. I buried my face in her neck and chewed on the precious flesh there, careful not to break the skin. This pushed her over the edge, and somewhere, as I emptied myself into her in absolute exhilaration, I thought I heard her say my name.  
  
We lay there quietly then, coming down from the huge rush, she was all warmed up by now. I reached over and shut off the car's heater, planting a soft kiss on her chest as I lay my head back down on her. My Slayer.  
  
Her hand teased the mussed ends of my hair. " What do we do now, Spike?" she asked thoughtfully. "Are you staying or going?"  
  
"I want to stay, Pet. That's why I always come back. If you want me to go, I'll go. Won't like it any, but I will."  
  
She leaned up on her elbows then, looking me in the eyes, and I was almost lost. Almost tried to take her again right then and there. But she was being serious.  
  
"I want you to stay and prove that I can trust you," she told me simply.  
  
"I'll never go, not anywhere, not without you, Love." I promised. "You'll have to dust me to get me away from you now."  
  
She smiled the tiniest bit. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that." She started to move beneath me, and I could tell she was leaving me now and heading back home. All well and good for her, but it was broad daylight now, and I was stuck there.  
  
"So, you're just going to leave me here? Captive in my own car?"  
  
"Would keep you out of trouble for a while," she replied. But then she relented. "I'll run back to your crypt and get your blanket," she offered, climbing out from beneath me, depriving me of her welcome warmth. "Wait here," she suggested, getting out of the car and heading for the crypt.  
  
Well, I would wait there. Or anywhere. Forever, if that was what it would take.  
  
I would prove myself to her, and I would never leave her again.  
  
Love's bitch; that's me. 


End file.
